


Inklings

by Calla_Lilalma



Category: Bleach
Genre: Body Image, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hair Dyeing, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Self Confidence Issues, Ukitake's illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calla_Lilalma/pseuds/Calla_Lilalma
Summary: The time the silliest misunderstanding was accidentally born and the time it was unconsciously resolved.





	Inklings

**Author's Note:**

> Hei! It was about time I made something about those two.  
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome!  
> Hope you enjoy :)

**then**

Juushirou’s head feels heavy and strange but he forces his hands to stay away and playing with his fingers. Impatiently, he asks how much time there is left and gets a scolding slap in his hands from his friend, the perpetrator of this situation, and a reprimand not unlike those he used to give to his younger siblings.

Unlike his lively to say the least siblings though, he just sighs and does as told, wishing that the result will be worth it.

And it is, as less than an hour later he looks at himself in the mirror and gasps loudly in astonishment.

He just stands there in disbelief, feeling the medium length black strands settle and caress the skin in between his fingers. Eyes never stray away, as if the mirror or even his eyes are lying and the moment he turns away, the black will be replaced with the same old sickly white.

But that thought proves to be false in a slow reaization as in his pale fingers there is a dark and contrasting black, finally matching the color of his eyebrows. _Again,_ as he reminds himself as an afterthought.

Maybe it’s overly dramatic on his part, but there is something that makes him feel nostalgic and more like _him_ now that he marvels at his reflection. It takes him back to a time when he was with his family, playing and taking care of his younger siblings, when he was healthy and just a boy with ambitions and hard work, both of which seemed impossible in the life they were leaving.

Of a time before he became ill and Mimihagi came into his life.

Juushirou actually remembers the god coiling around his lungs like ivy and the three-day period of his hair draining of all its color, among other side effects. There was no sleep during the whole process, just him panicking and crying alone about what was happening to him. His hair had passed all the in between shades until it lost all of it, making him look limp and lifeless and older.

Now it has become his new normality. He’d spent and will spend a much larger part of his life with white hair than the few short decades he had it black. But that still hasn’t made it easier to live with.

Everyone in the Academy can recognize him in one way or another; if not for just his name and his good reputation, then definitely from that characteristic. His name has been wrongfully spelled so many times from that and it has become a daily and tiring hindrance that is ever so slowly eating away at his highly praised patience.

So, when some of his friends, a daughter of a medium ranked noble family, told him she was having a party, he had thought nothing of it. Nothing like that had ever crossed his mind until he was holding a container of special ink that writes in hair instead of scrolls.

It smelled like strong herbs, like tea, and oil. The substance was thick and like something alien that gave him doubts no matter how detailed was the explanation of what it is and what it does. The other occupants of the small gathering, only then realizing that he was the only guy invited, were ready to make a case to convince him to let himself in their hands.

Really, Juushirou hadn’t needed much convincing to get on board and said yes too loudly and impulsively. It’s not like there was much to lose.

Now though, the risk and the hours of fidgeting have paid off and Juushirou actually feels childishly giddy to go to classes the next day in a mix of mischief, curiosity and nervousness. So much so that he almost leaves his friend’s dorm without listening to her advice about his newly inked hair and how to take care of it for the next month that the ink will last.

It’s late at night when he returns to his dorm and not one soul roams the halls, many other students have fallen asleep or have sneaked out. He knows for sure that Shunsui has been one of those, he had told him that he’s gone to some bar to celebrate a mutual friend’s birthday. Juushirou would have gone too otherwise but he’s finding the decision he made to be the better one.

As he gets ready for bed, he briefly wonders how Shunsui would react seeing him like this. His face feels hotter and his lips twitch upwards just a little bit. But he hides it, even as he’s completely alone in his room.

He’s warmed up to Shunsui’s compliments, considering the words passed right by him in the past, while still reeling and getting used to living with his faulty lungs, flail body and lackluster appearance. Maybe that was why it became a habit. It seems like something Shunsui would do- seemingly flippant but caring motions that could be waved off easily if one wasn’t looking.

Juushirou did though. And still does. Maybe that was why he developed an enormous, dangerous crush on him that has his emotions in a disarray.

His own body interrupts his thoughts with a mild coughing fit that he weakly waits to pass. After wiping his mouth and drinking some water to wash of the blood inside, he tucks himself in to sleep, smiling sleepily as the dyed black strands contrast the white pillow and bedsheets but blend with the dark of the hour.

~~

The next day he wakes up earlier than usual by another coughing fit, a moderately painful one. He gets up quickly to prevent bloodstains but the sudden movement brings him vertigo.

Nevertheless, his mood is especially elevated and by looking at the mirrors it projects on his face. Normally, Juushirou doesn’t like assessing himself into the mirror more than absolutely necessary, but now he feels confident enough to make an exception. Besides he’s early enough and he has time to be a little vain for once.

He takes his time when brushing his hair, checking the brush with each stroke, to see if the color is already washing off. Before any malicious anxieties can ruin his day, he splashes water in his face in cleansing. His mother has always told him that water has healing powers and used the few times they could afford to bathe like a ceremony. He holds those moments dear and turns to them with fondness when necessary.

By the time he gets out of the bathroom, it’s about time to head to classes. The anticipation more than the pressure of time makes him hurriedly put on his uniform and with a deep breath he exits his room.

It doesn’t take long to be noticed and the stares on the back of his neck seems heavier than before.

When he greets some of his friends in the halls, they all take a moment until they recognize him. The gaping mouths and astonished face makes him grin widely, to the point of being near painful.

Juushirou won’t lie to himself; roaming the halls feels strange and new, but good at the same time, exhilarating. He’s not standing out for the unwanted reasons now. He’s still treated as fragile of course, but he can notice the differences. Just because he looks less sickly, even by artificial means, he’s treated more conventionally.

The classes go on with nothing out of the ordinary but he’s having a great time. He makes sure to treat his friends from the party lunch as a token of gratitude. Even when they decline bashfully, he persists. If it was entirely up to him, he’d do it more than one day.

“Have you guys seen Kyouraku?” he asks. Calling the other by his first name was about to escape his tongue but he doesn’t like the possibility of intrusive questions more.

One of them shrugs sluggishly.

“Haven’t seen him. But he got more wasted than anyone yesterday, so you can take a guess.”

Juushirou nods. Just as he expected- possibly nursing his leftover state and headache in his room.

He waits until the end of classes, the sun having slowly darkened, to visit. Earlier would have been a waste of time as Shunsui can sleep like the dead and with no cares, a feat enviable at times.

At the sight of the door, he takes a couple deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. The giddiness returns and the papers of class notes become a good cooling method for his flustered face.

With a deep breath and his usual smile, he knocks. Loudly. If the other is still sleeping… well too bad, he had plenty of lazing around until now.

From the other side he receives no response. He tries again, calls the other’s first name and states his presence.

At some point he hears slow, irregular footsteps that have Juushirou rolls on his heels childishly.

Finally, it opens and Shunsui leans on the door frame. Honestly, he looks worse for wear; his eyes are red rimmed and half lidded, his hair a mess of unruly curls.

He waits for the other to adjust and blink away the sleep to look at him. Juushirou can see the confusion and, as they assess his face, realization.

“Juu-chan?” he asks like he sees him for the first time in centuries and not just the day before.

His smile widens and his heart flips inside his chest.

“Have you forgotten my face?” he teases casually.

“No! No, of course not…” he stumbles his words in a daze.

“I brought something for the headache. And the notes for class. Yamamoto-sensei expects you to double train tomorrow.”

Shunsui groans, “Oh man, is that really necessary?”

“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t drunk so much and lost classes.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest with an eyebrow raised- a pose he’d been doing since he remembers himself trying to reign in his restless siblings.

“I’m building tolerance, dear friend.” Shunsui huffs and takes the papers like they are daggers to cut his own throat. “In half a century, I’ll be the drinking champion in all the bars.”

“Unless you die first.” he quips cheerfully.

“My, my...Was it those morbid thoughts of yours that turned your head so dark?”

As a reflex, his fingers run up to play with the strand that insistently keeps moving in his face, “Actually, cosmetic herbal ink did- Are you really feeling alright?” he looks back with a concerned frown and furrowed brows.

Shunsui’s face is paler that he thought and his eyes are unclear, like he’s in a daze, staring at Juushirou, unfocused grey eyes not straying away from his face. It does things to him and he doesn’t know if the blood runs to his face or far away from it.

After a pregnant pause, he snapped out of it, “I’m fine. Fine. Just, just peachy! You worry too much, Juu-chan…thank for the meds. See you later!”

And Juushirou flinches out of his own brief stupor when the door closes his face.

Returning to his room, the concern lingers and pushes down the absurd feelings of disappointment. It’s not nearly the first time something like this had happened and possibly not the wildest one that he’d witnessed, but his friend’s behavior has just been so odd this time round.

He resumes his routine, short and precise, and prepares himself for a hopefully good rest and a to-do list of keeping an eye on Shunsui tomorrow.

~~

He frowns to his plate and the food he’s been playing with his chopsticks- he must put something in his stomach for the day, but his appetite is non-existent.

It’s been a week and he’s yet again to have a solid hold on Shunsui, who is quite possibly avoiding spending more than few moments with him.

The first day or so he thought that it was because on the effects of his hangover, the next that he was busy with supplementary training, but at times when they would normally hang out, Shunsui would awkwardly choke out an excuse to get away from him.

And he refuses to look Juushirou in the eyes. The floor has become more interesting than him. He would have never imagined describing Shunsui as ‘stiff’ but he can’t think of a more apt word in this situation.

As the time pass, he feels more and more worn out. Which in turns makes the whispers louder and spiraling inevitable.

A mirror now shows how ghostly he looks, how unnatural and ill. The dark of his hair now that he sees it better only makes his skin strange and transparent and with his wide green eyes he looks like some kind of apparition.

Maybe that’s why his crush won’t look at him lately.

Juushirou tries to convince himself otherwise but now that the doubts have been seeded he in a turmoil.

Normally he would talk to Shunsui about it or the other would realize in that inquisitive way of his, but he’s both the problem and nowhere to be found in the first place.

He hadn’t realized how much he was used to the other’s presence until he’s eating alone for the seventh day in the row and being treated like he’s a stranger. Even with others around, he’s still feeling lonely.

Nothing changes the next week either in that regard and he hates how irritated he becomes about it. The voice of his insecurities feeds off of it and negative energy and thoughts settle on his shoulder, heavy and intrusive with every step.

Soon after, he notices the color fading from his hair and memories hit him again like a slap in the face. Suddenly, he’s back to his worn-out home, with his mother and father marveling the divine wonder they see affecting their son while said son is unable to breathe, panicking as the god settles into his lungs, painting them the black straight from his hair as he gasps pleads of help from his parents and listens to his siblings calling out to him.

This time, it’s not as fast nor physically painful. The grey simply proceeds to lighten its shades and he just watches with mixed emotions.

Juushirou feels conflicted and the stress makes the matters worse.

Maybe it’d be better if it were like the first time, he wouldn’t have to ponder into it for so long. It’d be just enough time to get this fascination over with.

If it was a quick procedure, he wouldn’t have to try to deny the heartbreak of Shunsui leaving him without a word.

But he wouldn’t have those precious moments when he thought he was truly beautiful and pretend to be normal on the outside, if he never can on the inside.

Either way, he asks his friend about it when she inspects her fading work.

“This stuff is really expensive. Expensive and rare. Farmed in very specific and limited circumstances. The only way I got hold of it is because a rejected suitor gifted it to me.” they both chuckle at that, Juushirou’s a little sadder.

He tries to live it through as he possibly will never have the opportunity of a repeat and keep it as pleasant memory.

Oddly, the funniest stage of the transition is the pure grey one, right in the middle between black and white. And he had thought white hair made him look older and stand out in the crowds; at least it works well with making his skin gleam pleasantly, especially in the natural lights.

The rest of the days pass quietly until there is back to the way it was before. Juushirou busies himself with studying and practicing kido and his latest medical exam with Captain Unohana who only offers an amused smile at the change.

Shunsui and him also make up soon after. The former is less distressed but something still plagues his mind and Juushirou wants answers but his emotions don’t let him. He’d missed him and Shunsui says it too with an arm looping around his shoulders. The days pass in bliss, gathering the courage to express his romantic feelings towards him at the academy’s graduation ceremony, on start of a new page to both of their lives, with a shy, testing kiss that makes their relationship start any hovering things be pushed into a box in the back of his mind to be forgotten.

**now**

“You _could_ wait until we’re in the estate.” Juushirou laughs breathlessly, pretending to be chiding.

Lips touch his own again, briefly, teasingly and shameless as always. They taste like bitter alcohol. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You never do.” he tells Shunsui, “We aren’t young anymore for such public displays.” He always says the same thing every time but none of those times were the last. This surely wouldn’t be either, judging by his partner’s handsy behavior.

One of those restless hands lower from his nape, down his spine to settle to a familiar place around his waist and pull him to Shunsui’s side softly.

The glances on their way to the Kyouraku estate were only an additional hint for what’s to come and so he wasn’t surprised when he’s being pushed to a wooden wall and kissed senseless again the moment they are inside.

Juushirou is just as eager to reciprocate, relishing at the cumulation of the tension during the whole evening, where Shunsui couldn’t take his eyes away from him.

They pull apart for Shunsui to focus more on undoing his intricate dark braid and cursing in relief when the newly dark locks fall down Juushirou’s nape, neck and chest.

“I’m buying Matsumoto and Kushiki drinks for a year.” He murmurs almost dreamily.

“I don’t think Toshiro-kun and Byakuya-kun would appreciate it.”  Juushirou chuckles, arms looping around the other’s neck. “Besides, I’d prefer you spend your night with me.” He might have not drunk anything alcoholic this evening, but there is still a pleasant buzz in his mind and his skin starts gaining color moment by moment.

His laughter is enveloped in another fierce kiss and they expertly navigate themselves to their quarters, for it has been many years and Juushirou has learnt the ways of the Kyouraku estate by heart and can walk wherever even in his sleep.

In the way, Shunsui’s flowery kimono falls off his shoulders first and both of their captain’s haori follow. Juushirou is pushed onto the large bed in only his basic uniform, his black hair flowing around him like a dark halo in the white sheets.

Despite his self-confidence, he can’t help but blush under the adoring stare capturing his face.

“You really like it, huh?” he asks. Something in the back of his head tingles but he’s too invested in the moment to dig through it.

“How can’t I?” Shunsui’s stubble tickles his neck more than the fleeting kisses, “You never cease to amaze me, dear.”

Slowly, too slowly for Juushirou’s liking, the rest of his uniform is peeled out, leaving him naked to the rare summer breeze, shivering and breathing heavily with anticipation. Shunsui promptly makes it up with his own heat; his hands roam all over his naked skin, lingering to leave marks on his clavicle and chest.

Heat pool low on his belly and he lets out a relieved moan when Shunsui’s hand grabs his length and strokes him slowly to full hardness.

“You’re taking too long…” a whisper drags out of him and pulls the other to a fiercer kiss to spur him on, tongue delving deep and exploring, like they did when they were still new to this with the added experience of all those years. To his relief it works wonders, the hand on his cock travelling even lower between his asscheeks to his hole.

The surprise is evident when Shunsui groans in his mouth and Juushirou takes the chance to flip himself on top, straddling the other’s hips. On the inside of his thigh, Shunsui’s cock twitches, rubbing with his own leaking one.

Immediately his rough hands come to settle on Juushirou’s hips like they belong there. He parts his lips, but a cough comes before any words can. It’s not of the lightest, but it’s not very severe either. Thankfully, there is no blood to ruin the atmosphere further.

Shunsui sits up to rub soothing circles at his back, up and down his spine and other ministrations he knows work until his lungs take air in again, muttering sweet nothings to his ear.

Clearing his throat loudly takes a while and thank goodness for the water that Shunsui always keeps everywhere in the estate for cases like this, or Juushirou would have plummeted for the rest of the night.

“Hey, hey…” Shunsui peppers his face with kisses, “It’s alright. It’s not like it was the first time it happened-”

Juushirou’s face contorts into something ugly, bitter then and he hides himself under his long black hair, no doubt looking like a demonic creature. Pieces of unpleasantness slowly emerge as a faint memory threatens to make matters worse.

Shunsui, always understanding and by now all but reading his mind, unearths his face from all the dark locks and gives him a tender look, encouraging and not pushing.

Juushirou ignores it nonetheless. He urges Shunsui to his previous position under him and continues as if nothing happened. Shunsui has gotten softer, they both are, but Juushirou’s determined and prepared.

Settling between Shunsui’s legs, he licks up a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, his other hand working on himself. The salty taste isn’t anything new and he works his lips on the underside and the leaking slit, places he knows are sensitive. Grunts coming from above him and hands grabbing the back of his head, fingers intertwining with his hair. They tingle his scalp from the way they pull just a little but let go.

He looks up with a smirk, lips just a breath’s distance from the cock in front of him.

“You can pull.” He says confidently, “It’s not like you haven’t before.”

Shunsui’s smirk takes a hint of ferocity in it, the fingers are more certain at their hold on his head, pushing him back to his crotch until Juushirou grazes his teeth on the length and wrapped his other hand around it to keep him from coming so soon.

Once again in the position he wants, Juushirou lowers himself on Shunsui slowly, moaning and hissing lowly at the light burn of the stretch. His eyes close despite his will, his heart threatens to pound out of his chest. The fingers on his hips tighten but don’t put any force on him, only clutching his flesh when he’s fully settled.

“You’ll be the death of me Juu-chan.” Shunsui moans and pulls him on a filthy and desperate kiss, a kind reserved for solitary moments like this, like he needs Juushirou, who responds in kind. For so many years now, the fire and intensity between them hasn’t vanished, only mellowed out by the security and safety of their companionship.

Slowly, Juushirou starts rocking his hips back and forth, picking up the pace when that isn’t enough. Shunsui’s hands tighten on his waist, blissfully less careful and helps him move up and down his cock.

Juushirou feels out of breath in the good, best, way. Sweat is covering his whole already flustered, burning body, hair is clinging to his chest, back and face as the pace turns more and rougher and unrestrained.

And wide smile blooms on his face, resting his forehead upon Shunsui’s, opens his eyes slowly, watching his pleasure break his casual relaxed self, the pupils of his eyes darkening to a dark, molten silver, still tender surprisingly but not as frustratingly so. They never settle in looking at one place, much like his greedy hands and every inch of Juushirou’s body feels good and worshipped. It fuels him to go faster, to chase the pleasure and be driven to the edge.

The final touch to his shaft, stroking fast and hurried is what does it and his keen of climax is shallowed by the bruising kiss which doesn’t stop until Juushirou fully rides out his orgasm, losing whatever burst of strength he had and relaxing completely to Shunsui’s shoulder.

At a point, he becomes overstimulated his blunt nails dig into the other’s skin as a signal. As a response, Shunsui pulls out and it only takes a couple of strokes from him to spill on their hands and stomachs.

They lay down to catch their breath, Juushirou more than he’d like to admit. He feels boneless and satisfied and by the roguish grin on Shunsui’s face, he’s safe to say the same for the other too.

The heat’s not too severe for him to protest being embraced to a firm chest and having his lower body covered with a thin sheet. He lets out a content hum at the fingers massaging his scalp and playing with the dark strands.

“Second time’s a charm it seems.” He teases in a mumble.

The fingers stop their ministrations before they start again. Juushirou’s cheek vibrates as Shunsui laughs.

“The first time was too, Juu-chan.”

“Oh really? Because from what I remember, I was avoided like I was actually contagious and hideous.” His words bear incredulousness in them but he’s not actually mad. After so many years, something like this has turned mostly harmless.

Shunsui takes his face into his hands, “I was having a crisis from the moment I met you and then you show up looking like my deepest, secret fantasy and I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want to ruin the amazing thing we already had because I kept having horny teenage dreams about you.” He actually looks sheepishly flustered as he says that and Juushirou can’t help but gape at him.

Shunsui’s kiss the astonishment away, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way, my handsome Juu-chan.”

Recovering, he returns the kiss and bites the other’s bottom lip teasingly, pulling away from their embrace.

“Well…” he makes a show of twisting a black lock from hair with his index, “You have more than enough time to make it up to me. I’ve been informed that the world of the living has developed quite a lot of options to experiment with.”

**Author's Note:**

> Then Ukitake proceeds to live his best life by trying countless hair styles/colors etc. Quincy arc whomst?  
> I just started imagining Ukitake with his natural black hair and i made a fic.  
> You can find me on tumblr with the username callalilalma if anyone's interested.  
> Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
